“No.” Micah’s voice rises in anger, in panic. “You idiots might be done but it is not over. We’ll say you traded your necklace for a joint. We’ll say Bobby stole it.”

In Micah’s desperation, he’s not thinking clearly. By now too many people know—Chet and me and Sienna’s friend Grant. Micah looks across the cove, to the swirling blue and red lights painting colors on the trees and lake surface. Two, maybe three minutes, tops.

Another voice floats down from the opposite side of the hill. “Micah. Put down the gun.”

Paul.

My heart alights, and I search the hill for his familiar form, finding it half-hidden behind a mountain laurel the size of a tree. I take in his stance, the glint of metal in his hand—his gun from the safe. Chet stands a pace or two behind, a ragged shadow in the darkness. There’s the flash of white teeth as he gives me a grin, and I can’t help it—I laugh with relief.

Micah’s gun is steady on Jax, but his gaze swivels back and forth between the two, from Paul to Jax and back again, at the two guns pointed at his head. “Gentlemen, I believe this is what’s called a Mexican standoff. You know the first one to pull the trigger wins, right? Who’s it gonna be?”

Silence. I hold my breath and wait for a shot.

Micah lowers his arm, the gun dangling from a fist. “Fine. Fine. But I would just like to reiterate for the record that we wouldn’t be standing here right now if you bastards had just followed the plan. Sit tight, act normal, say nothing. Isn’t that what we agreed to do? But Paul here couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut and Jax... Jax had to go and lose his marbles. Batty Jax. You can’t make this shit up.”

“I can’t live this way anymore.” Jax’s voice cracks, weary with emotion, with what sounds like tears. When he steps out from behind the clump of grass, his rifle is pointed at the ground. “This guilt...it’s too big for me to keep carrying around. It’s too heavy. Every time I close my eyes, Bobby is right there. That...that look in his eyes when he couldn’t break free of the seat belt, the sound of his underwater scream when I went for Paul and not him. He grabbed my ankle, and you know what I did? I kicked him in the goddamn face and then I dragged Paul to shore.”

I can see it. I can see what a burden it’s been for him. We all knew Jax was suffering; we just didn’t know from what.